Preserve Your Memories
by Gregory E. Larson
Simon and Garfunkel's words from a song titled "Old Friends" rattles in my brain from time to time: . . . preserve your memories. They're all that's left you.
When I first listened to those words at the age of
sixteen, they saddened me because I was full of youth and I didn’t want to hear
about people that had grown old. Now my age puts me in that category, and those
lyrics fill me with joy because I am full of memories. Yes, they are
both sad and good memories, but I tend to lean toward the good ones, in part,
just to keep my sanity.
There’s the milestone memories – graduations,
weddings, birthdays and holidays - happy squeals that filled the air on
Christmas morning, or feeling the tears roll down the cheek when the
sixteen-year-old child backs out of the driveway and begins their first trip of
driving to school.
What memories boil up when you let your mind wander?
The ones that are most prominent to me are experiences – not so much the ones
from a career or raising a family, but scenes from journeys and adventures. What
wonderous times those were, with majestic landscapes and unusual destinations.
I love to watch a mountain stream jump and fall as it
makes its course over rocks and logs. To take a deep breath of mountain air on
a cool, sunny morning is about as good as it gets, or to listen to the coyotes
yip to each other at sunset so they can find their way and keep warm through
the night. When I was younger, there was a satisfaction in backpacking with the
minimal amount of gear to take me where most people couldn’t go. I remember all
the bike tours across states and countries, of feeling the exhaustion and
satisfaction from dipping the bike wheel into a river or an ocean, as a way to
stamp the official completion of a tour.
Part of my psyche hearkens back to Dad, who’s words I
can still hear, “Nothing is worth doing, unless you do it well.” The deeper I
explored his advice, I learned that experiences were best when I immersed
myself in learning everything I could learn or when I trained as much as
possible in both mind and body for an upcoming event or journey. It made for a
rich experience, even when the outcome was not how I envisioned it. There were fleeting moments when I experienced the temporary nirvana of thinking I’d
attained a level of competency, if only temporary, of the best of the best, of
campers, hikers, bikers, writers, painters, and musicians.
After embracing the wonderful memories, I have a deep
sense of gratitude that I was able to experience so much in my life. Sure,
there’s more to experience, but I am so grateful for my time on earth, grateful
that my creator gave me the tools to see the wonders of the universe and to
give me the opportunity to navigate life.
Now that I’m older, I have just as much fun when
swapping the tales and yarns of biking or camping adventures with those around
me, sitting on the patio with a beer in hand, reliving the details and watching
the story play out before my eyes. If I lean back and meditate, and let the beer
do its magic, it’s as if I were there in the story, feeling, smelling, and
hearing everything around me.
Sometimes I think I should make a list of top ten physical
places where I’ve stood in my life. It would be hard to pare down the list. I’d
have thirty places, or more, that I thought should make the top ten. Maybe I
need to go back to the Aolean Islands off the north shore of Sicily, rent a
small adobe house on a hillside, sit on the veranda, look out over the
Mediterranean Sea and make my lists with the reasons why they are worthy of
making the cut. I’d have a big bottle of some Italian wine, some fresh
mozzarella cheese, a loaf of bread, some olive oil and capers. It would be time
to lean back and take a nap and to dream of all the places that have meant so
much to me.
I could do that for many days. Let’s see . . . there
could be a list of the top ten adventures, the top ten eateries, the top ten .
. . time to take another nap.
Here are a few pictures from places that are high on the list of memories:
Hello Greg! I'm not sure why, but your statement about memories,"I tend to lean toward the good ones" make me think of the line in Simon and Garfunkel's song , The Boxer. "I am leaving, but the fighter still remains". Even though old memories can make us sad, we need to realize that they make us sad because we now relize how valuable those moments were.
ReplyDeleteKeep up the great work.